Doesn't Work Well With Others
by The Lady Elizabeth
Summary: Why Sands works alone. Rated for language. Very mild slash.


Doesn't Work Well With Others

Disclaimer: I don't own Sands. Or any other OUATIM-ness.

Summary: Why Sands works alone.

Rating: R, for language mostly.

Author's Note: Please leave reviews. I am a comment whore.

Doesn't work well with others.

That was always scrawled on his employee evaluation reports and he supposed it was true.

The first partner Sands had ever had was a woman and he never forgave the agency for this betrayal.

Oh, sure, all those feminists would have you know that women were just as capable of the job, just as smart, just as good as any man out there. But, Sands knew the truth. They were whiney, stupid, and much more prone to being shot than most of the men he had trained with. It was as though the estrogen attracted bullets or something. 

But, his first partner was a cute, little Jersey girl who said her name was Emily Whitman and who never shut up. That bothered Sands for two reasons. First of all, the incessant babbling damn near drove him insane (well, more insane) and he was beginning to understand all too well why the white trash macho pricks on those morning talk shows always insisted that a woman should be seen and not heard. Secondly, he was the one who was supposed to do all the talking. Sheldon Jeffery Sands talked and you listened or he blew a new hole into your body. If you were lucky, he'd shoot you somewhere painful but not necessarily deadly.

As it was, he was stuck the Whitman girl (who stupidly kept insisting that he call her Ms. Whitman instead of Emily because it was much more professional), whether he liked it or not. He had petitioned for a new partner, but had been told in less than polite terms where he could shove his complaints.

They had worked together for two weeks before Emily Whitman screamed at him to "fuck off" and had been consoled with a new assignment. Sands had followed her up to their superior's office an hour later, been informed of the fact that he would be changing partners and told not to mess around with his new partner.

Of course, that proved very hard to do. Once more, they had assigned him to a woman partner, but unlike the rather mousy (cute, yes; hot, no) Emily, they had assigned him to a positively gorgeous woman named Roxanne. She was everything that Sands could've asked for in a woman- tall, leggy, and with a face that put all others to shame- except for one thing. She was also positively brilliant.

Manipulating Emily hadn't been too much of a challenge (until she had caught on by the end of the second week and had avoided him at all costs), but trying to control Roxanne was a completely different story. She told him off every time he tried and he had even been slapped once after what he had considered a perfectly reasonable compliment. It wasn't his fault that she couldn't appreciate how "bootylicious" she looked in those black, leather pants of hers. And, yes, he had used that terminology.

It wasn't much of a surprise when, after a little over a month as partners, they had ended up in bed in a dingy hotel room outside of Vegas. It was kinky sex at its best.

Well, as soon as HQ had found out about their romp in the sheets, Roxanne had been transferred to New York City and Sands was left back in Los Vegas. They had poetically vowed to write to one another, but Sands was a master at delivering good lip service and if vowing to write or call once in a while had him a guaranteed lay in New York, well, then he'd offer to call every Sunday.

Partner Three. This time the CIA had the sense to give him a male partner. At first he was thrilled (no chance of another Emily), then severely depressed (no chance of another Roxanne). However, he decided that now would offer a good time to experiment, if he felt horny enough and if the local hookers looked a little dirtier than usual.

However, Officer Martinez had absolutely no interest in Sands, professional or otherwise. The wise-cracking champion of tacky tourist garb was apparently of no interest to the painfully straight and painfully by-the-book Martinez. 

Sands had to admit that he had little interest in Martinez, besides a good challenge and often went out of his way to drop heavy innuendo, send seductive glances in Martinez's direction, and sometimes even brush against the older officer in ways that would've made even him shift uncomfortably in retrospect. Martinez hadn't responded to the obvious attempts at seduction and didn't until one day Sands had become so frustrated with the man's apparent lack of a penis that he slammed Martinez against a wall and kissed him hotly and passionately.

Sands had woken up in a hospital several hours later with a throbbing headache, a large lump on his head, and a note saying that Sands was being reassigned.

To Mexico.

He met his fourth partner, a nearly retired officer who told Sands that he wouldn't take any of the young man's shit, and actually liked him. The bristly older man kept Sands on his feet and more often than not ended up cuffing Sands across the back the head whenever Sands fucked something up. He learned pretty quick that you either didn't fuck up around Officer George Wright or you ran away pretty fast if you did. After six months on assignment with Officer Wright, Sands had not only learned to make a lot less mistakes, but also to run pretty quick, too.

The only time that Sands had been truly saddened by a reassignment was when he was transferred to Culiacan. He'd gotten used to Wright's insults and had even adopted a few of his own, delighting in how quirky they were and how people stared at him whenever he said them. "Fuckmook" was one of his new favorites.

In Culiacan, Sands had been assigned to a shy kid two years his junior. The kid was in awe of him most of the time and Sands even tried a bit of his famous mojo on Bentley (Jason Bentley, that was). He was surprised when the kid had blushed, but not turned down the offer. He had even allowed the kid a free make-out session before pulling out his gun and telling the kid that if he so much as touched him again, he'd blow his balls off. Jason had fled mighty quickly and Sands had collapsed in a fit of laughter.

However, Sands was left without a partner again when the kid had managed to get himself caught by a drug cartel. He'd been rescued after a couple of days and the agency had promptly returned him to the U S of A. Sands wondered if Bentley had mentioned anything of his threat, but when no reprimand had come, he figured that Bentley had decided to leave well enough alone.

Good for him.

So, it came as a shock to him when he suddenly realized that he had been in Culiacan for nearly a year without a partner. As that damn drill moved towards his eyes and his mouth opened to scream, he wondered for the briefest moment if that had been intentional.


End file.
